


I need more.

by Harley_H



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco's POV, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealer!Harry, Drug Use, Drugs, Heroin, M/M, Muggle AU, Not that angsty but... oh well, POV First Person, but not really, depends on how you read it, i'm not good with tags, slightly non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harley_H/pseuds/Harley_H
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is a drug addict, Harry is his dealer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I need more.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, keep in mind that English is not my first language. So, please, if there's any grammar mistake or anything misspelled, let me know so I can change it.

A quick transaction. Money from one hand to another and, in an instant, I'm getting a shot of Heroin.

I've missed the feeling. The heat throughout my body, the peace, my mind floating. I’m not broken when I’m with Her.

I can almost hear the blood flowing through my veins, intoxicated with that brownish liquid, from which I can obtain so much pleasure. 

I don’t know how long I'm on the floor. This is the last one, I promise myself while I try to sit up. But I know it won't be the last, it never is. I can spend some time without Her, of course, but, in the end, I always come back.

My dealer (was his name Harry?) watches me while I sit. He's already offering me a cigarette before I have the chance to ask for one. I light it with infinite fragility, something unusual on me. The feeling that my body no longer belongs to me will remain for an hour or two, maybe more.

I inhale the smoke with some difficulty, I can feel how every fiber of my trachea suffers. I'm going to quit smoking, I tell myself. I'm lying.

We don't talk, he just stares at me, as always (how do I look today? I’ve got my best leather pants on and my blond hair is clean, so I must look good enough). He’s waiting for me to faint or something worse. I suppose he doesn't want to lose a good customer.

But this time there’s something in his eyes, shining far too green. Wildness, rage, passion. I know he's high, not on heroin though, he never uses his own material. Cocaine, maybe, judging by the restlessness of his whole body. But it's not the cocaine that's in his eyes. (Was that scar a side effect of using too much cocaine? I don’t ask).

With a quick movement that I can barely register, he takes the cigarette from my lips, and a wry smile crosses his face.

This is the kind of relationship that we have. He sells me the Heroin, waits until it's flowing through my veins, and then spends a little time with me, exchanging glances and cigarettes.

I know my eyes are fixed on him, but I don't even bother to focus them to be able to see him. My body has better things to be focused on, such as the burning pleasure that travels through my muscles. Nothing hurts anymore.

When I want to figure out what's happening, he's already on top of me, he made me lie down on the floor and I haven't even noticed. I can smell the smoke from the cigarette somewhere near the left side of my head.

And, again, it takes me a moment to realize that he's kissing me. I don't know how much time he's been doing it, but as soon as I feel his hot, wet tongue against my lips, I concentrate on kissing back.

This is new. Usually he only stares and smiles. This is new.

This time I can feel, with all my senses on him, his hand on my hip, stroking the prominent bone (is his cock rubbing against mine? I don’t know).

He's almost as consumed as I am, and, occasionally, I notice a mild twinge of pain when one of his bones hits one of mine, but I'm not complaining, I don't care, it feels good.

When he finally separates from my mouth, I don't say anything while he places the almost completely consumed cigarette to my lips.

“How are you feeling, Draco?” He asks. But I don’t answer, I just nod my head slightly, still lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He lies down beside me, with one hand on my sternum, noticing my slow breathing, and the other under his head.  
(My name sounds weird on his mouth, it doesn't sound like poison, and it’s not said with hate as I'm used to).

He doesn't tell me but I know I can sleep in there. It is not the first time. When I wake up, there's usually some food, that I never eat, and a new dose prepared, that I inject as soon as I open my eyes. 

He is always there when I wake, but I know he has been getting in and out of the house several times with other customers. I can hear them in my dreams. But for some reason, I'm the only one who can stay, the only he cares for.

He never sees me sober for more than five minutes and neither do I.

We follow this routine several days until I run out of Heroin and have to go out to get more money. It's always the same.

 

When I see him the next time, I have several bruises on the arms, face and legs, but he doesn't ask questions. He knows how I get the money.

There's a dose prepared for me before I can pay for it.

“This one is different”, he says, “I want you to try it first.” 

The first shot is free. He needs a guinea pig before selling it big. And he knows I never refuse to anything.

This one is different. It turns on all the nerves of my body as soon as it begins to flow through my veins. I cannot help but open my eyes on surprise. This one is better.

I know he has caught me because my skin is burning in the place where he rests his hands, I guess I'm shaking. But it's not a bad feeling, just the opposite.

He has put me on my side, just in case, but I don’t care. Nothing matters at times like this. A shiver runs through my body. It's cold in the house compared to the temperature of my body at that time.

A long time passes, that's for sure. The ashtray is full of cigarettes when I get to open my eyes. The pleasure has never stopped to explore my nerves at any time, in fact, I'm sure I've left out a few groans.

He is looking at me more relaxed than normal. He is not high. One of his hands is in my shoulder and the other one is stroking my hair.

“I guess it's been good”, he’s whispering and smiling when he says this. I can only say two words before closing my eyes again. “The best.”

He is doing more than just kissing me now. His hands are everywhere.

 

I need more.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be appreciated! Thanks for reading!


End file.
